Tea for Two
by butterfly101488
Summary: It's 10 years after the war and Harry has started to have feelings for a certain dark haired potion master. Absurd, right? Seeing as how he's dead. Much to everyone's surprise, he's not. So, in order to keep him in his life, Harry drags the unwilling Severus Snape along on his hunt for a killer. Rated T for safety. Pairings: S.S./H.P.


Chapter 1

With heart pounding, Harry lay panting on the floor of his bedroom, the fall from his bed waking him from his dream.

"Goddmmit," he cursed breathlessly. He concentrated on the hard, cold surface of the wood floor beneath him, trying to regain his composure. It was in vain, the dream had been too vivid, too intense, and pulled too tightly on his emotions. He shook with longing as remnants from his dream floated to the surface of his mind. Flashes so realistic he could feel wavy black hair tickling his cheek, soft lips moving against his own, and the faint smell of old books and pheromones, ensnaring his mind .

"Nnuh," he moaned as a throb of almost painful intensity pulsed between his legs. He slid his hand in his pants, and after only a few strokes, came in a wash of endorphins and hot, sticky fluid.

He sat at his kitchen table, staring angrily into his cup of tea. He hadn't bothered to shave or brush his hair, which stuck up in all directions. That made the third time this week he had dreamt about Severus Snape. It was true that since the war he had developed a great amount of respect for the man. And yes, every year on the day of his death he visited his grave, but why was he suddenly having sex dreams about him? It had been ten years since Harry learned of Snape's true loyalties. So, why now? What changed? He was interrupted from his musings by a knock on his front door. He let out an annoyed huff, the knock turning into a loud pounding because, apparently, he was taking too long to answer.

"Oi! Harry!" Ron shouted.

"Ron, stop that! Harry could still be asleep," Hermione chastised.

"This is way more important that sleep, Hermione!" Harry swung the door open, glaring at his two best friends.

"It's six in the freaking morning, Ron. What could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait until a decent hour?"

"Have you seen the morning post?" Ron asked, pushing past Harry and shoving a copy of the Daily Prophet into his hands. Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione who gave him an apologetic look. They sat down on his sofa, Ron's expression impatient.

"Well, go on. Read it."

Harry looked down at the headline on the front page:

_Severus Snape Back from the Dead_

_Sources spotted the late headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape, leaving St. Mungos late yesterday afternoon. This came as a big surprise considering the entire wizarding world thought him deceased. He refused an interview, so we are left to our own imagination to solve this shocking development._

A picture of Snape covering his face as the camera flashed was below the article. Harry's mouth fell open in disbelief. Then last night's dream came back to him, making him blush a deep red. Thankfully, Ron and Hermione mistook it for anger.

"We knew he was a slimy git before, but now he's just reconfirmed it."

This time Harry did flush from anger.

"Not telling the Daily Prophet how he survived doesn't make him a git."

Ron snorted. Hermione, sensing the fight that was about to ensue said, "Even though we believe where his loyalties truly lie, not many others do. I'm sure he just took this opportunity to take a break from everything." Ron's ears turned red.

"I can't believe your siding with that git. And _you_, Harry! He gave us hell for seven years of our lives! And because of, what… some _memories_ you're going to trust him? All of a sudden a few _memories_ clear him of everything he's ever done wrong? I'm sorry; I can't just forgive and forget that easily. Maybe if you would show me the memories?"

"I'm sorry Ron. I told you I can't do that. It would be an invasion of privacy."

"An invasion of priv-," he started, then scoffed and continued, "right, privacy… whatever, Harry." With that he walked out.

"Ron! Wa—"

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione said, standing, "He's not really angry with you. He's just upset that it wasn't Fred who came back. Give him a few days to soak it all in." She patted him on the shoulder, reassuringly.

"Yeah…" Harry trailed off.

"Harry? Is everything ok? You've seemed a little distracted all week."

"Have I? It's just this case at work. It's… a bit gruesome." Which wasn't a lie, and although it did consume a lot of his thoughts, it wasn't the center of them.

"You haven't mentioned a new case."

"We haven't released any information about it yet. Even if we had this isn't one I'm willing to share with you. Speaking of, I'd better get going."

"Yeah, ok… but if you ever need to talk I'm here."

He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, "I know, Hermione. I'll see you later."

"Kay…" She left with a worried little crinkle on her forehead.

Chapter 2

"All right guys, what've we got?" Harry called out to his team as he walked into the Auror Department at the Ministry of Magic. He was the equivalent to a Detective chief inspector in the muggle world, and led a team of five. Max, a lanky freckled 20 year old who hummed with nervous energy, handed him a file on the case.

Two male bodies had been found in Monks' Jewelry in Diagon Alley last Friday. Emerald green marks had covered their bodies. An autopsy reviled that that they had indeed been turned into emeralds from the inside out. Their skin had split from the force, and left their faces frozen in a mask of fear and pain. Harry had bubbled with anger when he had arrived on the scene; someone dared to kill on his watch? They were Borris and Hubert Monks, brothers and owners of the jewelry shop. The following Monday had found another emerald body, this time, a witch named Julia, who had been vacationing here in Britain. They hadn't had a crime this bad since the end of the war, and Harry was going to do everything in his power to stop this sick bastard.

"Sir, I tried to find something in common with the victims like you asked. Aside from the obvious, I found something." Harry looked up at him, expectant. "It turns out that Julia bought something from Monks' Jewelry the day before the brothers were found dead. " Max's voice rose excitedly.

"What did she buy?"

"She bought a pair of grey Trilobite and white gold cuff-links. It's a rather ingenious idea. Trilobites were marine arthropods who made their first appearance in the early Cambrian period, and roamed our planet for an astounding 270 million years before dying out." His eyes were bright and shiny with barely contained excitement. "There are 20,000 know species of Trilobites. More specifically, these cufflinks were made from Aulacopleura which lived during the Ordovician period. The killer didn't take anything from the woman _except_ for the cufflinks."

"Ah… so, the killer went to Monks' Jewelry in search of those cuff links, and when the brothers told him or her that they'd been sold, they were killed. After which he or she found out who the cuff links had been sold to, found Julia, killed her, and took the cuff links. Find out what's so special about them."

"Yes, Sir." As Max walked away, Harry searched the room.

"Hey, Fin!" Harry called, waving him over. Fin was a bull of a man. He was 6' 5" with muscles galore, brown hair cropped close to his head, and an all work no play attitude.

" Sir?" His deep, gravelly voice ground out.

"Have you found the Monks family?"

"Yes, Sir." They live over in Liverpool."

"Good, take Brendon and go have a chat with them. See if any of them know anything about Trilobite cufflinks and if they know anyone who was keen on them." Fin nodded an affirmative. Brendon was the exact opposite of Fin. He was bubbly and short with bright blue eyes and blonde hair. Because of their opposite personalities they worked well together.

"Sally, Brook," Harry said, walking over to his girls, "I want the two of you to break the news to Julia's family."

"Eye, eye Cap'n." Brook gave him a toothy grin. Her strawberry colored hair fluffy and wild as ever, much like her personality. Sally was down to earth and kept her cool in even the most stressful of situations.

Harry decided to see if he could learn something, anything, about this spell that was turning the victims to emerald, and he knew just who to ask. Not that he needed an excuse to visit Snape; he would have eventually. His curiosity was always getting the best of him. But, he knew Snape wasn't likely to let him in the door unless he could peak his interest. He thought people being turned to emerald would do it. He'd already exhausted all of his other resources on the topic, anyway. After leaving the Ministry building, he turned on the spot and apparited to Spinner's End. Harry made his way down the street lined with brick houses, most of which were abandoned and boarded up. Graffiti of various shapes and colors adorned most of the walls. Soiled newspaper and beer cans littered the street. Harry stopped beside a broken street light which stood beside a two story house just as neglected as the rest. His stomach was doing little flips of nervous anticipation. He took a deep breath, walked up to the door, raised a shaking hand, and knocked. A moment later, the door opened revealing Snape's pale face. His black eyes narrowed and he slammed the door in Harry's face. Annoyance replaced nervousness as Harry knocked again. The door was pulled, roughly, open.

"There could not possibly be any reason for you to _grace_ me with your presence, Potter. If you have mistaken the memories I gave you as an invitation, you have once again, drawn your own idiotic assumptions about others," said Snape, the silky smoothness of his voice momentarily dumbfounding Harry. Anger, annoyance, curiosity, and attraction bubbled up inside him.

"You died, I watched you die… I gave your eulogy. I watched as your casket was lowered into the ground…" Harry whispered. His eyes glassed over as he recalled the scene, a lump forming in his throat. He hadn't meant to say that; it just slipped out. Harry could have sworn a flicker of some emotion passed through Snape's eyes, intrigue, perhaps.

"Obviously, I did not die, Potter." Harry stood there, eyes looking anywhere but at Snape.

With an annoyed sigh Snape ushered Harry inside.

"Fine, if it will get you out of my life, I'll tell you." Harry entered into a small, dimly lit sitting room, which smelled of dust and stale air. The walls were covered by old leather bound books. Moving through the room, Harry sat down on the thread bare sofa and placed his hands in his lap. Snape sat in an armchair across from him, black eyes boring into green.

"Nagini's venom did not kill me, but put me in a coma. Someone in Hogsmead found me and transported me to St. Mungo's, apparently. I only just woke a few weeks back. Something in her venom also kept me from aging. It is not my fault the staff at St. Mungo's are a bunch of dunderheads, and didn't think to mention my survival. I have told you all there is to tell, now, get out of my house."

"I'm relieved you survived," Harry said, giving Snape a small smile. Before Snape could react Harry plowed on. "I came here for another reason though. Three dead bodies have been found. All of which died by being turned into emeralds. I was hoping you knew of a spell, or potion, that could do that?" Snape sat impassive.

"Being an Auror, Potter, I would have expected you to have gained an aptitude for such things. Your resourcefulness as a youth had been abundant. Ah, yes…I had forgotten, Miss Granger was the brains behind your operation, wasn't she? It is a wonder that you have been able to keep this job as long as you have without her." He sneered in a satisfied manner. Harry gritted his teeth in aggravation as heat rose in his cheeks.

"It's true; I couldn't have won the war without help. No one is an island, therefore; I choose to work with others and help people. I understand that you have been wronged by people in the past. Everyone has at one time or another, and unless you learn to put that behind you, you will never be happy. You have a brilliant mind, Professor, and you have made significant advancements in magic, but you allow conceit and resentment to keep your ideas hidden away." Harry stood, balling his fists.

"Do not be so arrogant; Potter, to think you know anything about me. Get — OUT!" He spat. The rage emanating from him left Harry tingly.

"With pleasure." Harry all but ran out the door. Taking a big gulp of the cool outdoor air, he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "That didn't go as planned," he mumbled. Even so, a satisfied feeling crept over him as he walked back the way he'd come. He chuckled. Even though he hadn't wanted to fight with Snape, it had been a feeling akin to coming home.

Chapter 3

Back at the office, Harry sat behind his desk, flipping through a book on alchemy. His visit with Snape had given him a new found sense of determination. Stopping at Chapter 14, entitled Emeralds, ideas began to form in his mind as he read:

_Beryllium Aluminum Silicate (Be__3__Al__2__Si__6__O__18__) is the mineral that makes an emerald. Beryllium is rare and forms in several ways. Deposits of this mineral have been found in granite and pegmatite, volcanic deposits, metamorphic rocks, and greisens. Chromium is what gives emeralds their green color. Although, the makeup of emeralds has been known for well over a century, it wasn't until the 1960's that it made an appearance in alchemy. Argus Zeel, a prominent alchemist at the time, discovered the complex process of turning objects into emeralds._

With slight embarrassment, Harry realized Snape had been trying to get him to think. _Thanks, Professor. _He thought to himself. Harry jumped up and jogged out of his office.

"Max!" Max jumped at the mention of his name, and looked up from the book he was reading.

"Y-yes, Sir?"

"I need you to find me a list of all registered alchemists who have ever been in contact with Argus Zeel, whether they were his students or friends. Better yet, I want _everyone_ who has ever known him, alchemist or not. Find me addresses and places of employment. Have you found anything out about those cufflinks?"

"I have. It turns out that, if paired with the pollen from an Acis flower, it can heal any illness. Unfortunately, both of these items are very rare. Someone would have to be very desperate to try to track them down. And, even if you're lucky enough to find them, brewing the healing elixir is exceedingly difficult. Only a potion master would have the skill needed to create it properly." Harry's mind lit up.

"Do you know where someone could find this flower?"

"There have been a few found at Mount Elbrus."

"Great work Max, thanks." Harry clapped him on the shoulder before running out of the building into the blinding afternoon sun. Luckily, he'd been to Mount Elbrus before so he could apparate there. First, he went home and packed a tent, food, winter clothes, and a few books on alchemy and potions. He quickly changed into a pair of jeans, thick green turtleneck, matching beanie and gloves, and his winter robe. He was in such a rush that he couldn't be bothered to put his boots on sitting down. He hopped around on one foot while trying to shove the other into its boot. Losing his balance, he crashed into his coffee table.

"Ow…" He bounced back up and quickly cast a reparo charm on the table. Once more he apparited to Spinner's End and, as soon as his feet touched the ground, sprinted down the littered street. For the second time that day he knocked on Snape's gray, weathered front door. Snape appeared, a frown turning the corners of his lips.

"What do I have to do to be rid of you?" One thin eyebrow rose as he looked Harry up and down, "You are bleeding."

"Huh?" Harry felt the aching spot beside his left eye, and, sure enough, his fingertips came away bloody.

"More alarming than that is your attire. You realize it is eighty degrees out?"

"It won't be for long. Here, put this on." Harry proceeded to shove a blue knitted beanie on Snape's head, making the ends of his hair curl. The disgruntled look on Snape's face was priceless and Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"What the hell are you doing, Potter?"

"I'll explain in a minute." He grabbed Snape's hand and turned on the spot. The feeling of being forced through a tight rubber tube barely registered; his only thought was that he was touching Snape's bare flesh. The warmth from their contact radiated up his arm.


End file.
